


PWD

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Disability, Disabled Aziraphale (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Paralysis, quadriplegic Aziraphale, spinal cord injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24874636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Aziraphale meets Crowley at a posh party and they live happily ever after
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 81
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to natalunasans and Kat for helping me make this story a bit less of a mess.   
> Huge thanks to Sani86 for giving me the idea.  
> CW: this chapter contains ableist language followed by a punch with a crunch delivered by Divine Intervention straight into the face of the person using ableist language. I'd say there's internalised homophobia, but I'm not sure.

Gabriel would hate the idea every time, and Michael would defy him every time all the same. "No," she would say, "there's nothing to be ashamed of, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Aziraphale is our brother, Aziraphale is the head of accounting and he's the fucking best!"

Michael wouldn't realise that she was enabling Gabriel, talking like that, implying that Aziraphale had earned his right to live a full life by being good with numbers, but at least she meant well. At least she saw  _ some  _ value to him. 

When Aziraphale told her about it, she winced. "I'm sorry, little one. I… I mean… to me, you're valuable regardless of what you do. Or don't do. I love you, little brother. I wish I could kick him and be done with it."

She couldn't. Gabriel was witless, heartless and overall the worst, but he was charismatic and that was enough for their parents. 

And Aziraphale, he understood Michael, he did. He knew that Michael wanted nothing more than to marry Uriel from Security. He knew Gabriel belonged somewhere in the eighteenth century, despite the fact that Gabriel was gay. Gabriel would still be interviewed only by the conservative journalists and praise the values of traditional family. Aziraphale could have been abled and he would still have been despised by his elder brother who would never admit that he fancied men, while Aziraphale was quite calm about it. Gabriel was unhappy, that much Aziraphale knew, and in his kindness he would forgive Gabriel his hypocrisy and callousness. 

Tracy helped of course. Tracy took care of Aziraphale since that day when he woke up in a hospital, his parents sobbing and mourning him, while Gabriel kept insisting that he hadn't pushed Aziraphale off that cliff, had nothing to do with Aziraphale breaking his neck and emerging alive only because Michael dove into the cerulean water right after him and pulled him out.

Their mother gave up on him, but their father, he made sure Aziraphale got the best education, he made sure Aziraphale was the head of accounting, and bugger it, alright, he'd need someone to write down his calculations, but his calculations were the best… Their father tried to never mention Aziraphale's disability _. _ He was all about how good Aziraphale was with numbers. He was all about how kind and accepting Aziraphale was, until someone tried to set their relative up with Aziraphale, then his father would spit out that his brilliant young son was a quadriplegic, which naturally made everyone disappear. Still, he tried, while their mother was complaining about the burden of a butch daughter and a paralyzed son, about how only her firstborn lived up to all the expectations. Aziraphale knew that Gabriel was like this because their mother only had any interest, drunken as it was, in Gabriel, conventionally handsome, traditional to the point of being boring, abiding and obeying. Aziraphale had never blamed anyone. Michael blamed everyone. Both had their reasons.

But at the moment, Aziraphale was attending quite a merry and far too posh party.

Aziraphale loved those outings, the galas, the social gatherings. He loved the clothes and the playful atmosphere, he loved watching people come and go, drinking champagne, never mentioning Michelangelo. Tracy made sure he looked well in his wheelchair. Tracy made sure he was  _ fetching and handsome and awfully cute.  _ Tracy wouldn't mention suppositories, like Gabriel did with a roll of his eyes and a frustrated sigh. 

He was watching Anthony Crowley, a financier who treated the market as if it had been a blackboard in Oxford, full of unsolved mysteries, unproved hypotheses, undiscovered theorems… And as Aziraphale was watching him, Crowley was going on a drunk rant about the accessibility of the venue.

"I mean… that door? It's disableist! It shouldn't have been put there! This place is as accessible as Everest! Hateful, really…"

Aziraphale quickly googled Crowley, but it showed nothing special, nothing of interest. He asked Tracy then.

Tracy, more reliable than any search engine, whispered into Aziraphale's ear:

"He has two mothers. One is a quadriplegic, and she's… she's a pretty awesome psychiatrist. The primary breadwinner. Gave birth to Crowley against all odds. Her wife is a stay-at-home mom, as far as I know. I guess Crowley did mention she was autistic… He's awfully proud of his ADHD and of his mothers. Personally I think he's autistic too, but that would be impolite to assume… Adores his mothers. Soft as a feather. Why don't you offer him a drink?"

Aziraphale took in Crowley's lithe body, the way he swayed having had too much to drink… His red hair and searching gaze that Aziraphale could feel despite the young man's sunglasses.

"He's photosensitive," Tracy whispered. 

Aziraphale could use his left hand so he drove over to Crowley. 

"Fancy a drink, my dear?" Aziraphale asked with a beaming smile and no hopes to be noticed.

"Oh fuck, finally someone normal around here!" Crowley groaned. His companions shared a confused look, then one of them, short and black-haired, pushed the others away.

"Nothing to see, off you fuck!"

Crowley turned to Aziraphale.

"Well, hello there! What would you like?" Just like that! No rude questions, no perplexed looks.

"A glass of champagne would be lovely, my dear."

"One glass of champagne coming up!" Crowley promised and sauntered away to get one. Aziraphale could both see and hear him arguing with the staff. Then he came back, swaying in the air with two glasses of champagne. 

"Need a straw? Or should I just bring it to your heavenly lips?" Crowley winked.

Aziraphale was lost for words, which had never happened. Tracy appeared to save the situation.

"I'm going to take care of it, love," she said, taking Aziraphale's glass from Crowley's hand. 

"I could have done it just the same," Crowley argued but took a sip of his champagne. "Can't exactly flirt with you around, can I?"

"You want to flirt with Aziraphale?" Tracy stopped all her movements and Aziraphale did want some of that champagne…

"I fucking want to flirt with the only person in the room who can understand how fucking terrible this fucking door is!" Crowley waved in the general direction of the door. He grabbed the glass back from Tracy and brought it to Aziraphale's lips. Aziraphale forgot how to drink.

"Oh, fuck, I know. That's how they react when my mom is in the room… Drink up, angel. All those people… just a shame, really. Fancy a dance?"

"I don't dance, my dear," Aziraphale managed.

"No, you do dance. You can drive yourself just fine around this shame of a room. You can't dance how they think you should, but it's disco, angel. No laws in disco! Just tell me you want it!" Crowley downed his champagne.

"I… I do want it, my dear," Aziraphale rasped. There, in front of him was the most desirable, the most important man in the room, and he ignored every other person.

"Oh good. Should I sit in your lap or is it too fast? I'd come right in my pants sitting in your lap, so… perhaps not the best option, but still…"

"You're drunk," Aziraphale snapped bitterly.

"So what? It doesn't make you any less hot, angel. I'd sway my hips for you all the same."

Aziraphale just nodded, and followed Crowley to the dance floor. They swayed and swirled together, and it made no difference whether they moved because they could move their hips or because they could twirl and spin their wheelchair. Aziraphale laughed, Crowley laughed, they were both ridiculous. 

Tracy, as she was putting Aziraphale to bed that evening, winked at him and gossiped with him, but Aziraphale could only see sharp cheekbones, swaying hips, wicked smiles.

"He can't be… gone for me?" Aziraphale asked. 

"He's so gone for you, darling. He's the only man with eyes in the room… You sleep now. He'll call tomorrow."

***

Crowley was having his lunch at a fancy place near his office. Frankly, he couldn't eat at all, but Bea told him he had to, so there he was, picking at his salad, when Gabriel Fell slithered into the seat in front of him.

"So… saw you dancing with my bothersome brother last night. Good move. Still, you could have it so much better,  _ darling, _ " Gabriel playfully stole an arugula leaf from Crowley's plate. Crowley looked up at Gabriel hatefully.

"What did you just say?" Crowley demanded.

"You know… my brother. The bloke in the wheelchair. Easy prey. Such a burden… I'm available too, you know. Just say the word. A man like you, powerful and hot, must be…"

Gabriel never finished his sentence because Crowley punched him, devoiding him of quite a few teeth in the process. Crowley adjusted his hair and punched Gabriel again, surrounded by the safe ring of his bodyguards.

"Wanna repeat what you said, arsehole?"

Gabriel was too shocked to reply.

"Thought so… He's hot, your brother. You, on the other hand, are just a slimy excuse of a life form. Throw him out!" Crowley hissed to his bodyguards. "Make it hurt."

No one blinked an eye as Gabriel was tossed outside. 

Well, Michael was watching the whole altercation from her window. She called Uriel immediately.

"Love? He's not going to bother us anymore. He's no more!" Michael smiled like a predator. 

***

Crowley had bodyguards because Bea told him so, and Crowley listened to Bea because their mothers told him so. 

"You have the worst mouth, Crowley!" Bea said once. "So, here are three fearsome blokes to face the consequences because I swear one day someone will punch your handsome cheekbones, get a papercut and much angrier for it."

Crowley loved the idea of walking around with three fearsome blokes. He was powerful enough to piss some people off, besides, well, he had a mouth. That mouth was very dry at the moment, as Bea stood next to him watching the remains of Gabriel walk away. 

"That went down like a lead balloon," Crowley said.

"It did, Crowley." Bea nodded seriously.

"I'm not paying you to agree with me," Crowley snapped. 

"You're not." Bea smirked. "More importantly, I take it you wanted to keep flirting with Aziraphale. Do you think he'd be open to suggestions after you punched his brother?"

"I'm fucked," agreed Crowley.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is a very sassy bastard. He is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally open to concrit. My beautiful, incredible, amazing betas who could do no wrong justifiably have lives, so they only saw the paragraphs that I considered potentially problematic.

Aziraphale loved accounting. It didn't hurt that he was effortlessly brilliant at it. He definitely enjoyed teasing his colleagues with this brilliance, and he didn't need three fearsome blokes to appease anyone, because Aziraphale smiled like a person who invented smiling. 

And when someone would ask  _ how does he do it, all those things with numbers _ , Aziraphale would smile and say that spending much time in the hospital as a teenager, he needed a distraction during endless procedures and especially when he remembered that he had a lot to get used to. Aziraphale liked the look of perplexed confusion on other people's faces when they heard his response. Aziraphale was quite proud of being a bit of a bastard, although he was never bitter. He knew people were sometimes uncomfortable with him and he called it vaccination, when he told them about his experience. After all, they asked the question.

With a sigh Aziraphale realised he'd been dreaming about lying down next to perhaps a bit more sober Crowley and telling him that he, Aziraphale, was an optimist. That in between counting and juggling the numbers, he counted the things he could do regardless. That he could read and learn, that he was fortunate not to worry about money, that he had a fiercely protective sister and an amazing caregiver, that he had a father who might have wailed a little but being the man of action, opted for  _ doing _ everything he could to make Aziraphale's life comfortable, and he had always been like that, his dear father. 

And yes, the senior Fell was an old-fashioned man, but he never judged his children for their sexuality and silenced his talkative wife every time she complained about Michael and Aziraphale. Mr Fell knew about Gabriel, of course, but he naively thought that Gabriel's lack of sentimentality would prove invaluable for business and that once his eldest son was self-confident enough, he'd come out just as calmly as his siblings had. Mrs Fell drank herself into quite an early grave, and Mr Fell lived long enough to see that most of his business partners preferred to deal with Aziraphale. At first because they thought that Aziraphale was, as Gabriel eloquently put it,  _ an easy prey _ and then because they were metaphorically driven over by a cunning businessman, who actually didn't mind telling them that he  _ would _ drive them over, metaphorically of course, but Aziraphale made his wheelchair look quite awesome. 

With his blue eyes and white hair and beaming smile, Aziraphale was a picture of an angel, but when he had a point to make, he was the angel of Isaiah, mighty and actually taking the throne of the Lord, since the Lord has no need for furniture.

All this Aziraphale wanted to tell Crowley. Crowley promised to call. Crowley had been drunk and dancing the blessed disco when he promised to call. 

Crowley flirted with Aziraphale in such a delightfully naughty manner that Aziraphale had to admit that even in his wettest dreams he had never imagined something of the kind.

The computer glowed and glared at Aziraphale. Ana, his assistant, glowed and glared at Aziraphale because he stopped talking at the most interesting moment, and Ana wouldn't be referring to general ledger they had been working on, she would be referring to a drunk financier who warned her boss about his sexual prowess after about two seconds of shameless flirting. 

"Aziraphale, for fuck's sake! Call him yourself! Or stop sulking! Or let's do some work! Or finish your story!" 

Aziraphale pouted. Ana groaned in defeat. Aziraphale pouted harder.

"But I want  _ him  _ to call me! It's well past lunch that we didn't have, dear girl, and he still hasn't called."

"Pout at him through time and space," Ana offered. 

"Time and space are the same thing, my dear."

"Oi, no need to be smug."

"My dear Ana, have we met?" 

"I believe so, yes."

"Alright, I'll call him. If you go and get us some wickedly scrumptious lunch!"

"Aziraphale, no one talks like that."

Aziraphale gasped, as if scandalised beyond measure. "So, I am no one? Go get us some lovely food, dear Ms Device, and I'll call Crowley."

"I'm not missing that conversation!"

"You're so missing that conversation, Ms Device."

"Aziraphale, you're… a dear."

"I know. So are you,  _ dear. _ " They giggled.

"Newt can bring us lunch," Ana suggested.

"Oh no, dear boy will die a thousand times  _ and  _ I'm not letting him anywhere near myself. Last time he brought us food…"

Last time Newt brought them food, the whole building blacked out, Aziraphale's chair blacked out too, so Newt was mostly a well-paid nuisance that neither Aziraphale nor Michael had the heart to get rid of. 

During Gabriel's team building activities that never took Aziraphale into account ( _ And you are an accountant, see? It's a wordplay, it's fun! _ ) but always ended with everyone gathering around Aziraphale, since he knew what a wordplay was, Aziraphale and Michael chugged from Michael's flask some alcoholic beverage that Michael would smuggle in, and drunkenly argued about whether Newt's talent to disable things could be called a disability. 

Ana walked out to get their lunch, and Aziraphale called Crowley. 

"Oh no, angel, fuck, you know already… Could you at least listen to my version of events?" Crowley either growled or groaned. Aziraphale was puzzled, and it didn't happen much. 

"My dear boy, first of all, hello. Second, I have been waiting for you to call me," Aziraphale gave up and pouted into the phone.

"The mighty pout!" Crowley yelled in horror. Aziraphale was puzzled,  _ again _ . Crowley didn't know, couldn't know about the mighty pout and the call was voice alone. "I'm sorry, angel, I… oh fuck! I can't even say I'm sorry! Could I make it up to you? Somehow? I'm not violent, I swear, that wanker had it coming…"

"My dear, what the devil has happened?" Aziraphale began to get used to being puzzled, and no, he didn't like it. 

"Oh… so you don't know? Oh, but you will… someone will tell you… Dinner? Please? I promise to be dignified."

"Oh Crowley, I wouldn't want anything to do with you, if you're dignified, besides, your hips, my dear boy, leave nothing to my imagination, so… Please, don't be dignified and take me to dinner. How does the Ritz sound?"

"A bit too much, so absolutely perfect. Angel, can you have dinner with me even after you learn what I've done?"

"I want to know what you've done…"

Michael burst into Aziraphale's office, dragging Uriel along. Both were laughing, and Michael didn't laugh much. 

"Oh dear… I will call you back, and we're so having that dinner!" Aziraphale ended the call and looked at his sister and de facto sister-in-law. 

"Look…" Michael looked at Uriel, then at Aziraphale. 

"I have no authority to marry you, my dears." Aziraphale smiled apologetically.

"Your boyfriend in the dark glasses punched Gabriel in the face." Uriel said evenly.

"He  _ could _ be my boyfriend, right? Sorry. That's not about me. Is Gabriel alright?" Aziraphale asked.

"He's missing several teeth… I doubt you want to hear his version of events." Michael wasn't quite comfortable in her pantsuit, all of a sudden.

"Alright…" Aziraphale nodded. He was puzzled, and he didn't even care anymore.

"According to Gabriel," Uriel began, "Crowley tried to flirt with him, and Gabriel got very angry, because he's so not gay and because Crowley was flirting with you only yesterday, and then Crowley made an insensitive comment about you, so Gabriel punched Crowley in the face but Crowley had his bodyguards beat Gabriel to a pulp." 

Aziraphale nodded along, wincing every now and then. 

"Well, judging by my conversation with Crowley just now, he's far from injured… Just so deliciously flustered… I suppose it would be safe to assume, knowing Gabriel, that he hit on Crowley and Crowley punched him in the face… I need to hear Crowley's version. The entire legal department must be on it, right?" 

"Little one, the entire legal department told Gabriel that…" Michael giggled. Aziraphale loved when she did that.

"They found some obscure law, you know how it is… In short, it's ok for a Scotsman to kill an Englishman on a Monday. Today is Monday, Crowley is a Scotsman, so…" Uriel giggled too. "I'm sure they made it up, but you know them… very hard to argue with. Unless you do the arguing." Uriel giggled again.

"Oh, darling boy…" Aziraphale purred. "I detest any violence!" He added promptly. "How is our dear brother?"

"Little one, you're gloating!" Michael chided, without actually chiding. 

"Never. I'm genuinely upset that Gabriel is apparently in pain and that he made a mess of things. And himself…" Aziraphale  _ was  _ genuinely upset. "Are you sure Crowley didn't hit on him?" He asked suddenly.

"Oh Aziraphale, who would ever hit on Gabriel?" Uriel rolled her eyes. "I mean someone would, but Crowley… Michael told me it was indecent, the way the man flirted with you yesterday."

"I didn't say it was indecent… it was just… as if he had been intending to elope with you to Vegas and get married. Something we should have considered," Michael squeezed Uriel's hand.

"And what, leave that fucker to run things? Or ruin things? Nah, we're ok. We can do all we can now. I have the footage from the security cameras in the restaurant… We're getting married!" And with that Uriel snogged Michael. 

***

Bea poked Crowley in the shoulder. Crowley said  _ ngk _ . Bea poked him again, this time into the snake tattoo on his temple. Crowley said  _ fuck.  _ Bea poked him again, into the crook of his elbow. Both elbows rested on the desk, and Crowley's head rested on his hands, one of which didn't look so well. Crowley wasn't just going around punching people, so he was very much out of practice.

"I brought you ice," Bea offered evenly. Crowley lifted his head. Bea dropped the ice bag on Crowley's hand. They didn't mean to, apparently, because they winced and apologised for the first time in their life. Then they found a good excuse.

"Now it hurts differently," they suggested.

"He called me," Crowley said. "That incredible, beautiful man called me. I didn't call him. I was killing his brother. What do the legal people say?"

"Well, apparently there's an old law that allows a Scotsman to kill an Englishman on a Monday. You had the chance to kill him. The world would be so grateful…"

"They must have made it up." 

"Yeah, probably. Maybe you should call Aziraphale back?"

"He agreed to have dinner with me today regardless of what he was about to learn… I need a table at the Ritz."

Bea nodded and fumbled in their phone. "Done. Call the man back. Don't be silly."

"See, your three fearsome blokes can't help me now."

"Well… there's a limit even to my powers." Bea quietly left. Crowley picked the phone up and sighed at it. The phone sighed back, which is, it vibrated and informed Crowley that Aziraphale was calling.

"Yes? Angel? I mean, Aziraphale. I can explain…"

"Dearest," Aziraphale purred, "you see, Michael, she saved my life, pulled me out of water. You have just made her happy. Whatever I can do for you?"

"Eeer…. Ngk?"

"I don't know what it is, Crowley. Oh… is this your way of asking for an explanation?"

"Ngk."

Aziraphale had to shut his eyes and take a few deep, very deep breaths. He didn't need to get so excited. Crowley might be a sweet, beautiful man, but it didn't guarantee anything… Aziraphale could still enjoy it while it lasted. Aziraphale wanted it to last forever… oh, that was bad, he had it bad…

"Angel? Are you alright? I mean, Aziraphale. Sorry. I'm… not nice."

"Crowley, my dear, can I hear your side of… the incident?"

"Well… Ehm… so… I was eating my lunch. I wasn't hungry, but Bea, my PA and my moms' spy, they told me to eat. Your brother came by, sat in front of me. Called you… Fuck! I should I have fucking killed him!.. oh, I'm sorry, angel. He wasn't nice, but like, worse than me."

"I think it's incredibly easy to be worse than you, my dear," Aziraphale replied softly. "I can imagine. He thinks that account/accountant is a good wordplay."

"Is it even a wordplay?"

"Precisely my point, my dear. So?" 

"So I… was eating, he came by, called you names, flirted with me and then  _ STOLE MY FUCKING ARUGULA _ ! Honestly, I don't know why, but that was the last straw and I punched him. I have bodyguards, because Bea says I need them…"

Aziraphale sighed again.

"You're such a good boy, my dear. Now, I don't approve of violence, especially against my family, but do continue."

"I told my bodyguards to throw him out and make it hurt. Poor lads finally had something to do!.. Anyway. I got us a table at the Ritz. Six o'clock. Your building is right across the street from mine. Could I… pick you up? Does your lovely ginger caregiver drive you around?"

"Yes, Tracy. I'll see you at five thirty then?"

"Thank you, angel. Do you… I mean… which flowers do you like? Green carnations, I bet…"

"How did you know?"

"Intuition. I was embarrassing yesterday but like… oh fuck it, angel, you're so beautiful!"

"You know, other than Tracy, no one has ever told me that."

"And she saw you naked. I trust her judgement."

"Really, my dear!"

"Really. See you soon, angel. I'll be wearing all black."

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: ableist language followed by karma porn   
> If something feels wrong to you, I'd like to hear about it so that I can fix it.

Aziraphale had had a few dates. Some were nice, but nothing special, some left Aziraphale fuming with anger. None had him pause in front of the mirror in the bathroom. None had him fret over his tie. None had him drive Tracy mad, and Tracy had been taking care of him since he was fourteen.

"Dear, you look lovely. You always look lovely. You seem to be implying that your taste or my care are not good enough, and I won't stand by it." Tracy did her best to frown, but she was actually doing her best not to laugh.

"I want him to be… in love with me!"

"He is. Are you in love with him, though?"

"I want to be."

"Good. Then let's go."

***

Crowley showed up with a garden worth of green carnations. 

"Hope it's not too much," he managed to utter from behind the bouquet in his hands. 

"No, my dear, it's just enough. Get in or we'll be late."

Crowley eagerly jumped into the car. 

"Angel, you look fantastic!" Crowley gasped, once he was able to see Aziraphale (the flowers were put on the passenger seat next to Tracy).

"So do you, dear boy, so do you… Shall we?"

"We shall. We so much shall."

They were near the Ritz when Tracy asked:

"Dear, there's that lovely shop I've meant to visit for quite some time. Do you think you'd be alright with your date?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Aziraphale assured. "What about you, my handsome date?" He asked Crowley.

"I'm fine, if you're fine, angel… Aziraphale." He was so flustered, poor darling, and all over a date.

"You'll have to feed me." Aziraphale reminded.

"Fuck, yes." Crowley begged, then remembered himself. "I mean, no problem. None whatsoever. I'd love to."

So Tracy swiftly disappeared the moment after she locked the car. Aziraphale and Crowley were led to their table. 

"I'm not… I hope I'm not… at least not intentionally…" Crowley began putting the menu in front of Aziraphale.

"Dear boy, you make no sense. Should I get used to it?" Aziraphale teased.

"I'm not fetishising you, ok? I… I… want to… oh fuck, you know, forget about it. I need a drink."

Aziraphale nodded, which summoned a waiter. 

"Glendeveron for my confused darling," Aziraphale ordered. "Bring a bottle. I'm afraid he's having it bad. And some good Chardonnay for me, your choice, if you please."

"Of course, Mr Fell." The waiter looked at Crowley with a peculiar mixture of disdain and support. "Black caviar as usual? We just got the fresh supply… Barely legal, if you ask me."

"Well, you know how to tempt me, dear. Then you'd know what I'd like as a main course as well… And what about you, dearest?"

"I'll have what Mr Fell is having."

"Perfect choice," the waiter praised.

"What if I don't know which knife to use to cut your main course!" Crowley looked like a man who had just faced down both an alien  _ and  _ a predator. 

"Oh darling, no worries. I'll tell you." Aziraphale assured. He turned sad suddenly, and Crowley caught on it. 

"What's wrong, angel? Are you… you alright?"

"Could you hold my hand, Crowley?"

"Sure. I'd love to!" Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's left hand and squeezed it gently. "Like this?" He asked quietly. 

"Yes, my dear. Exactly… exactly like this."

"Good… you… you feel good, if I may be so forward."

"This is indeed forward…"

"Glendeveron… oh fuck, sorry, Mr Fell!" The waiter managed to leave their drinks and disappear.

"I'd like some of that scotch too, my dear." Aziraphale asked. 

"Of course, angel." Crowley took his tumbler, put it into Aziraphale's hand and then moved his chair a bit to sit so that it allowed him to lift Aziraphale's hand in such a way that Aziraphale remained in control of the speed and angle of the tumbler at his lips.

"Thank you, dearest. Now you." 

Crowley took the tumbler from Aziraphale and downed it in one go. "Liquid courage."

"What do you need it for, Anthony?"

"You know, even my moms don't say my name like that…"

"Anthony," Aziraphale repeated with a smirk.

"Aziraphale." Crowley's revenge was quick and subtle. Gd Herself couldn't say Aziraphale's name like that. Crowley held Aziraphale's gaze and poured them more scotch. 

"If we keep saying each other's names, it's going to be ridiculous…"

"Aziraphale. Aziraphale.  _ Aziraphale. _ My, did they name you this way so that you taste like a Belgian waffle with cream?"

"You know, dearest, you're the first person in my life to leave me speechless, and that includes a lot of rather unpleasant people with unpleasant news."

"Well, I'm honoured…"

"On the other hand…  _ Anthony.  _ Oh,  **_Anthony._ ** " 

"You're a bastard and this is the best date ever. More scotch?"

"Oh, but you won't remember the best date of your life, my dear."

Crowley nodded with a smitten smile. They ate their dinner and chatted about their favourite books and music. There were no coincidences, and both were quite delighted by it. 

Before long it was closing time. Aziraphale invited Crowley to go home with him and continue their flirtatious argument over another bottle of fine wine. Crowley of course couldn't refuse, too drunk on both the alcohol and the company. 

***

The Fell manor was a huge house, and as of the moment only three windows were lit - those of the sitting room. A booming voice could be heard from the driveway, and Aziraphale frowned. He switched his chair to a higher speed and rushed to the house. Tracy and Crowley followed, like two loyal squires they were. 

Gabriel was standing in the middle of the room and screamed at Michael and Uriel who held each other protectively but remained calm and collected.

"You and your bitch, I warned you! I warned you! I'm Gabriel fucking Fell, and your whole lives belong to me! I told you you shouldn't indulge in your abominable lust… You and that fucking cripple… you don't know what's coming for you! I'll throw you out, I'll cut you off, I'll…"

"Gabriel, do shut up," Aziraphale said calmly. "Is your pain medication wearing off? Or are you quite unaware of your own position?"

"You… and you fuck boy… He tried to suck me off right in the middle of the restaurant…"

At that Crowley doubled over and threw up.

"So sorry…" He looked at Aziraphale apologetically. "I couldn't… bear the thought… Excuse me!" Crowley threw up again, this time into an ancient Chinese vase Tracy offered him. 

"It's alright, my dear…"

"He thinks he can fuck his way into my company! I'd like to watch you two fucking!" Gabriel spat. 

"I wouldn't allow that," Aziraphale smirked. Crowley threw up once again. 

"Nothing left… spent…" Crowley admitted. "Sorry about the vase…"

"It's alright, deary," Tracy replied, rubbing soothing circles into Crowley's back. 

"Gabriel, I suppose you don't realise the… What's the word?" Aziraphale looked aside thinking of a word.

"The gravity," Urial supplied. "He's totally forgotten about the gravity of the situation."

Michael smirked too and nuzzled Uriel's neck. 

"The gravity? You're all cut off! Fuck off! You're nothing, I'll ruin you…"

Michael was fumbling on her phone, paying no attention to her brother. 

"How was your date, little one?" She looked up, beaming at Aziraphale and Crowley.

"It was lovely, but now my darling has vomited everything… I can't allow for that." Aziraphale looked at Crowley suggestively.

"Oh!" Crowley realised. "Oh… What, they've been following us?"

"Of course, dearest, they are your bodyguards, it's their job. Oh what am I going to do with you?"

Uriel suppressed a chuckle. Gabriel couldn't stand everyone ignoring him and opened his mouth to resume his assault when the three fearsome blokes appeared behind Crowley.

"Oh… Ehm… Guys… Whatever Aziraphale says," Crowley made a welcoming gesture. 

Aziraphale smiled politely and coldly. 

"Dears, please, hold my brother down."

The very next moment Gabriel was held down. 

"Now… My dear," Aziraphale nodded at Michael.

"This is a video uploaded by a very popular vlogger." Michael dropped her phone in front of Gabriel. One of the fearsome three held Gabriel's head up so that he could see. 

" _ So folks, what you're about to see is pure karma porn. Don't worry about our Tony, though. Apparently there's a law allowing a Scotsman to kill an Englishman on a Monday. He's alright. We'll burn the world down for Tony anyway, won't we?  _

_ What you're about to see is a security camera footage, but I'm telling you what happened. Gabriel Fell, a well known arsehole and a pitiful man all over tried to hit on our Tony. Rumour has it our Tony is head over heels in love with Aziraphale Fell, an awesome man, through and through, the fucking icon of the quadriplegic community… Isn't it a match made in Heaven? Our Tony, the man who helped so many of us neuroqueer folks, being arse over elbow in love with Aziraphale Fell? I ship it! I suggest you do too! Sorry, ADHD, got carried away.  _

_ So Gabriel Fell tried to hit on our smitten Tony and used some pretty bad words talking about his awesome brother. Tony punched him, people. He fucking punched him! I'm all against violence, but that arsehole had it coming, he did! In short, enjoy the video, it's the best karma porn you can find, and let's all be ready to defend our Tony against anyone who'd dare come for him. _ "

"This is all over the internet, Gabriel. Don't forget that I'm the head of PR. You're done for. Uriel and I are getting married. Anthony Crowley, if it be Aziraphale's will, is dating our brother. You're fucking off to some remote farm somewhere in the States. Or else… I swear I'll have you killed." Michael took Uriel's hand. 

Crowley swayed a bit and fell on Aziraphale's lap. 

"So sorry, angel…"

"Oh no, darling, stay where you are, please… Let him go."

The bodyguards stepped back, Gabriel jumped to his feet and growled.

"You have nothing against me, nothing! Some internet fucker won't make any difference… And you," he turned to Aziraphale, "you I'm gonna dump somewhere without your chair and let's see how far you can crawl with all the physiotherapy I'm paying for…"

"I don't understand," Crowley began shifting on Aziraphale's lap to shield the man from his brother and losing every last drop of dignity he still possessed, "he must be missing several teeth… What's going on?"

Uriel tapped Gabriel on the shoulder, and when he turned to her, punched him. 

"Now listen to me. You're  _ done for _ . You touch a hair on Aziraphale's head, and I'll kill you. I swear I will.  _ You  _ will have to crawl. You have no power here. Or anywhere…" Uriel looked at Aziraphale hopefully - and saw Crowley plastered against his angel like an overprotective starfish. 

"Dear girl, you can do whatever you want." Aziraphale said. "Darling, please. I can't see a thing, and I've been waiting for this moment forever."

Crowley swiftly turned into a snuggly kitten. "That's much better, darling… lean on me… My dear fearsome fellows, please make sure my brother is put on a plane and dropped somewhere where nobody knows him. Preferably penniless and unrecognisable… Gabriel. Our company is still thriving because of me and Michael. You, on the other hand, are completely disposable… Thank you, dears."

***

"Wow, that was a thing," Crowley said. Uriel handed him two tumblers of scotch, since Crowley had apparently decided to take permanent residence in Aziraphale's lap, to Aziraphale's delight. 

"It was rather," Aziraphale agreed and took a sip of the scotch Crowley was offering him.

"I think you should take over the company," Michael said, sitting next to Uriel with her own scotch. 

Tracy poured herself some fine chocolate liquor and smiled at everyone present. 

"Whatever you say, big sister," Aziraphale smiled. "I believe you'll handle the press."

"Do you think mom and dad are mad at us?" Michael asked suddenly.

"Mom, of course, is, but dad is alright. Also, since they are both dead, I couldn't care less… I'm off to bed. Darling, do go home. I want you rested and fresh for our second date."

"I could stay, you know," Crowley suggested. "Bet there's a room for me somewhere in this ridiculous house… Could sleep right here, though."

"You two are indecent," Uriel said fondly. "Come, Crowley, I'll drive you home."

"You'll come back here, right?" Michael asked, a bit scared.

"Of course, Michael! Won't come back anywhere else." Uriel kissed Michael.

***

"So… I take it your date was… good?" Uriel had never managed a casual conversation, but well, she owed the smitten man next to her at least that.

"It was amazing…" Crowley told to the lights outside dreamily. "So smart, so sassy, so funny… So fucking hot! It's illegal how hot he is."

"Yeah… I guess. I mean… there's only been Michael for me. But yeah, ok. Aziraphale is hot. I think. I trust your judgement."

Crowley slowly turned to her. Gosh, he was a mess. 

"I want him, ok? I want him so fucking much. I want him."

"Calm down, mate. It's just a date…"

"It's not just a date! It's a date with Aziraphale. I need to take him to lunch tomorrow. Shower him with flowers and chocolates…"

Uriel handed Crowley over to Bea, who was only too happy to hear her boss mumbling through the night. They hadn't seen him so… ridiculous, and they hadn't expected to like it so much out of the pure goodness of their heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley checked himself out in the mirror. Brushed his teeth. Brushed them again. Fixed his hair. Messed his hair up.

"Could you just call the guy and talk to him?" Bea begged in fond exasperation.

"I'm about to. My breath isn't fresh enough." Crowley countered.

"Well, yeah. Because people smell each other through the phone! Call the guy!" 

Bea shooed themselves out. 

Crowley called Aziraphale.

"Hey, angel. How are you? I made reservations for lunch and… Aziraphale?"

"Dearest…" Aziraphale sighed heavily, Crowley's heart fell apart.

"Angel, what's wrong?"

"I… I don't want to go out today, my darling. Don't want to be stared at. Don't want to be talked about. I've just taken over from Gabriel and I'm… I'm so tired, my darling. I don't want to go out. Forgive me, dearest, I really don't mean to…"

"Angel… my sweet angel, what would you like for lunch? I'll bring it to you. Or you don't want to see me? I can deliver it to you and remain unseen." Crowley lay on the floor snuggling his phone.

There was a long pause. Unbeknownst to them, both closed their eyes.

"I really want to see you, darling. I do, I want to see you desperately, but…"

"But what, angel? What's wrong? I don't care if we're seen together or not. You know… I sat on your lap last night. It felt so good. It felt so right. I… I couldn't take my eyes off of you the moment I saw you. Your hair… your eyes. Your silly suit."

"It's stylish!" Aziraphale managed through a sob.

"It is. You're handsome and I… I think about you all the time. Miss your sass. Miss your wit. Miss the way you moan around a spoonful of dessert. May I… if you want… May I bring you lunch, angel?"

"Please, darling…"

"What would you like? Shall I call you from… from any place you want me to go?"

"Go any place you like, darling. Call me… Please call me, Anthony."

"Sure, angel. I will. I can stay on the call, if you want."

"No… no, call me when… when you're…" Aziraphale sobbed again.

"Please, angel, please, don't cry. What has upset you? Can I have them killed?"

"No, darling. Please… please don't kill anyone. I got rid of my brother with your help, my Anthony. I'm… I feel guilty about it. And I want to see you. I want to see you so much."

"I'll call you back, angel. I will. I swear."

***

An hour later Crowley strode into Aziraphale's office, loaded with bags, boxes and flowers - just in case. 

"Hey angel! Brought everything you were remotely enthusiastic about… so… I don't know what we're going to do with the rest… Maybe a fridge could help?.. What would you like, angel?" Crowley unpacked everything. Ana was standing behind him, looking at Aziraphale questioningly. He nodded at her, and she left. 

"So… what would you like first, angel? Should I call that girl, sorry, don't know her name, or Tracy?"

"No, darling. I want  _ you  _ to feed me. Could you?"

"Of course I could, angel! I'd love to. Just tell me what you want."

"That… that potato salad sounded scrummy. Could we start with it?"

"Of course." Crowley grabbed the box with the potato salad and pulled up a chair to sit in front of Aziraphale. "Is there a napkin you prefer to use or I could just be really careful, angel?"

"Be really careful, my darling."

"I will, angel."

They shared the potato salad and iced coffee Crowley had brought mostly for himself. They talked in between forkfuls of food. 

The potato salad was followed by a few delicious pastrami sandwiches and a green salad. There were some biscotti too, and as Crowley carefully fed Aziraphale he felt himself going soft and hot.

"What's on your mind, dearest?"

"Want to eat that cookie from your mouth, angel," Crowley admitted.

"Oh, please do."

Crowley grinned. He picked the biggest biscotti from the box, stuck it into his mouth and moved closer to Aziraphale so that he could suck on the hard dough as well. It grew softer and wetter from their mixed saliva, and soon their lips touched. Crowley's hands flew to Aziraphale's face, to gently cup those soft pale cheeks.

"How is it, angel?"

"Shut up and kiss me, you fiend."

Crowley kissed Aziraphale, and as he did so, a tender moan escaped his mouth. He inadvertently touched the joystick of Aziraphale's chair which sent Aziraphale into the wall behind him. 

"I'm so sorry!" Crowley wailed.

"Darling, you're having me against the wall, and my consent is gladly given."

"Oh… right." 

They kissed again. Aziraphale was breathing heavily in a few minutes, and Crowley pulled back a little.

"Angel? Need air?"

"Yes… need you too. Like air."

Crowley nodded seriously. "It's ok. Not going anywhere yet." He kept his hand on Aziraphale's cheek and their foreheads pressed against each other.

"Grab the chair, dearest."

Crowley grabbed the armrest of Aziraphale's chair. 

"For yourself, you idiot. The one you were sitting on." Aziraphale giggled. "Or do you prefer my lap?"

"I totally prefer your lap. Do you prefer me on your lap, angel?"

"Yes, darling, please."

Crowley grinned and straddled Aziraphale. 

"Want to hug you, angel."

"Please…" Aziraphale was on the verge of tears again.

"Why are you crying, angel?"

"Oh let's see… I have a lot of new responsibilities, I got rid of my brother which is both very good and very bad, and I had a lapful of a dashing young man who for some reason keeps seeking my company. Quite overwhelming."

"Ok… You're no doubt brilliant at everything you do. Your brother deserved to be dropped off a plane. I'm glad you find me dashing, but you're so fucking gorgeous yourself, I can't even."

"I'm not an easy person to date, Crowley. You can't even… you can't even invite me over, if you ever want such a thing…"

"I want such a thing very much, angel."

"On top of it all, I don't want to go home tonight, because… I don't want to be there."

"Then stay at my place, if you like."

"Crowley, I just told you…"

"Silly angel…" Crowley kissed Aziraphale's cheek. "My mother is a quadriplegic, Aziraphale. You think my flat is not suited for you? I bet it's suited better than your own place, because it was planned by an actual quadriplegic for themselves when they come to visit. So… would you like to come to visit?" Crowley wiggled his eyebrows wickedly. 

"Dearest…" Aziraphale dropped his head on Crowley's shoulder. "Dearest, I have made you up, haven't I?"

"My mothers are of a different opinion, I'm afraid… It's alright, angel. I'm real. We're getting along surprisingly well for two people who met a few days ago and are currently on their second date. Would you like to stay the night, angel?"

***

Late at night Aziraphale was settled on Crowley's enormous bed. Tracy was settled in the guest bedroom (which was the guest bedroom, as in not Crowley's mothers' bedroom and not the one always kept for Crowley's mothers' live-in caregiver). Crowley's penthouse appeared properly enormous itself. 

Aziraphale didn't want to admit it, but the place was indeed better suited to his comforts than Aziraphale's own set of rooms back in the Fell manor.

Crowley offered Aziraphale another guest room, but Aziraphale was feeling naughty after a delicious dinner, a glass of wine (or was it two?) and quite a few kisses… Oh, those kisses… Those sweet kisses, long, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, that left Aziraphale breathless and absolutely delirious with happiness. He wanted more, more, more, and Crowley was there to give Aziraphale more, more, more. 

So they were sharing a bed now, and Crowley's arm rested across Aziraphale's stomach, and Crowley's sharp chin was on Aziraphale's shoulder, and Crowley's tender breath tickled Aziraphale's neck.

"How are you feeling, angel?"

"Surprisingly comfortable… Thank you, dearest…" 

"Want your head on my shoulder, angel?" Crowley asked meekly.

"I'd love to…" 

Crowley shifted himself and Aziraphale. 

"How is it?"

Aziraphale sighed, relaxing. Everything was lovely. Everything felt right and calm. Crowley played with Aziraphale's hair.

"Kiss me again, darling."

"Angel… you don't have any idea how hot you are, right?" Crowley chuckled, but of course obliged.

"More," Aziraphale demanded after a few minutes of passionate making-out.

"Oh, anything, angel," Crowley promised before kissing his angel again. 

"I think… we should have a few more dates before… consummation," Aziraphale remarked when it was two in the morning and they still hadn't fallen asleep because of all the kissing. 

"Anything you say," Crowley agreed and kissed Aziraphale, moaning. "I think I'm addicted to kissing you… Oh what would I do?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My incredible betas understandably can't keep up with the collective effort of the autistic ADHD velvet worms, so I'm posting this at my own risk. Concrit is welcome. The main message is that Aziraphale is hot and Crowley wants him at all times.

Aziraphale woke on his left side, pressed against something vaguely sharp and warm. He lifted his head and saw Crowley who looked smitten even in his sleep. Aziraphale couldn't help wondering whether that was Crowley's usual sleeping face or it was just for Aziraphale's sake. He sighed. Crowley stirred and opened his yellow eyes. 

"Angel… Morning. You ok?"

"I remember falling asleep on my stomach." Aziraphale said and pouted. Crowley immediately kissed him. Aziraphale made a mental note to pout more.

"Yeah… sorry about that. You must have had a bad dream or something, so I took the liberty and… snuggled you."

"Can't remember any bad dreams…" Aziraphale pouted again - and it worked again! He received a proper passionate snog.

"Snuggling worked then!" Crowley said triumphantly once he ended the snog to take a breath.

"I'm heavy, my dear."

"Nah, you're not. You're perfect. I want to push you on your back and lie on top of you."

"My… oh… Alright."

Aziraphale was pushed on his back, Crowley was lying on him snuggling like there was no tomorrow. Or today, for that matter.

"Angel… so soft… so warm." Crowley gingerly moved away the collar of Aziraphale's pyjama shirt and kissed the revealed skin with reverence. Aziraphale realised he wasn't breathing - the sheer tenderness of the gesture, Crowley's dilated pupils and soft lips, the foggy morning outside… He'd sell his soul to anyone to have this forever, to feel so desired and so warm, so cherished, so cared for. 

And Crowley, he just went and made things better.

"How about a bath, angel? Together, if you want."

Aziraphale couldn't say no to him. He wanted to call Tracy but then a thought occurred to him. "Would you like to put me into the bath yourself, my dear?"

"Angel, it's eight in the morning. How come you're so seductive and alluring? Of course I'd like to undress you and put you into the bath myself. Why wouldn't I? Do you need the bathroom first? Would you like Tracy to come and take care of that?"

Aziraphale stared at Crowley. He could picture it, feel it like a promise of a later feeling, somewhere down the road, when he would be alright with Crowley putting him on the toilet, when he would cherish that shameless intimacy, when this intimacy would become casual. For now, Aziraphale wanted to remain sexy… There was no contradiction, he thought, none whatsoever. He wanted some privacy, and he knew Crowley would grant him that privacy… No, Crowley would think it was Aziraphale's right and would wince at the idea of Aziraphale's asking for it.

Tracy took care of the hygienic part, Crowley walked into the bathroom and Tracy took her leave to make herself a cuppa.

Crowley prepared the bath chatting with Aziraphale who was suspended in the sling of the portable hoyer lift. Once the bath was ready, Crowley undressed his love, his lover, his beautiful angel, a creamy white cloud of a human, soft and beautiful and too sexy, not that Crowley complained. Carefully, he lowered the sling into the water. "Is it good, angel?"

"It's perfect, darling… Well, almost. It will be perfect when you join me."

Crowley paused before opening his robe. "What is it, darling? Naughty tattoos?" Aziraphale smirked. He felt as if the time had stopped, as if nothing had ever mattered before that moment.

"Well… the problem is… I'm terribly aroused. I'm embarrassingly priapic." Crowley confessed and oh dear, silly boy, he blushed. 

Aziraphale looked down at himself. 

"I'm getting priapic too." Aziraphale pouted. Crowley of course couldn't stand it, so the robe fell to the floor, and Crowley was kissing Aziraphale, kneeling behind him and holding him across the chest. 

Crowley's hands roamed hungrily all over Aziraphale's body occasionally finding a sensitive spot but moving too fast for Aziraphale to enjoy it properly. 

"Darling…" Aziraphale tried to argue when Crowley came out for breath. "Darling… Dearest… YOU GO TOO FAST FOR ME, CROWLEY!"

"Oh shit… I'm so sorry… Sorry. You said… a few more dates. Just… blacked out for a moment there. Sorry… oh fuck! I'm so inappropriate!" Crowley submerged himself in the water out of shame.

"Darling… please, no diving in baths. Preferably no diving at all. See where it brought me."

"Into my arms," Crowley moaned, emerging. "I'm… I don't know how to say it and not sound… offensive… I'm so happy you're here with me right now."

"I am too, darling…" Aziraphale was pressed against Crowley's chest, Crowley's hands on his chest, Crowley's breath on his neck. Aziraphale was feeling… bastardly. "Do you like my thighs, dearest?"

"What sort of question is that? Your thighs are the best. The Almighty invented thighs to have a good reason to give you those… instruments of temptation."

"Fuck my thighs, Crowley."

"Wh… what? You're serious?" 

"I am, very. Fuck my thighs, now. Or I'll be very cross with you!"

"Can I… can I caress you? Can I… pleasure you, angel?"

"Yes, fuck, please." Aziraphale dropped his head back. Crowley's lips kissed down from his temple to his jaw. He held Aziraphale tighter, raised his own legs to capture Aziraphale's ankles. He was suspended too now, clinging to Aziraphale, as he began to sway his hips, sliding so easily, so sensually along Aziraphale's perineum. His hand curled around Aziraphale's cock. 

"You're amazing, my angel… You're properly amazing… is it… is it good for you?"

Aziraphale couldn't speak. He acutely felt Crowley's length, his breath hitched each time the tip of Crowley's cock pushed his balls up or slithered above his prostate. Aziraphale turned his head and captured Crowley's lips. 

"This is beautiful, darling… You're doing so well, you're making me feel so good…"

Crowley whimpered into Aziraphale's lips.

"We will be so happy, dearest… No one will ever be happier, Crowley, my Anthony, my beautiful, naughty boy…"

Crowley came with a wail, and Aziraphale followed him soon. 

"Angel… breathe, angel," Crowley whispered. He reached out for the lift to pull Aziraphale up a bit and easen his breath. "Breathe, you miracle, you impossible bastard… Breathe."

***

In the following weeks Crowley brought Aziraphale lunch every day. They kissed and kissed until the food grew cold, until they had to return to their work. 

They went back to Crowley's place in the evening. Aziraphale hadn't spent a night at the Fell manor since the first time he slept in Crowley's flat. No place was home any more, now that Aziraphale had a taste of sweet domesticity, of bickering with Crowley over dinner, of falling asleep in Crowley's arms. 

And every morning Crowley would fuck Aziraphale's thighs and stroke Aziraphale's cock to completion. He'd dress and undress Aziraphale, he would put Aziraphale on the toilet, he would never ask for more, never demand a thing. He was perfect, darling boy, and Aziraphale felt he was perfect too. 

"Darling, I want to fuck you. What do you say?"

Crowley said "Ngk". That was a good sign.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Smut. And smut. And inventive ways of marriage proposals.

Surprisingly, Tracy argued with Aziraphale over her day off. 

"What if you need me, Aziraphale? What if something goes wrong?"

"Then I can call you."

"And if he… he's sweet. He's in love with you. I don't trust him." Tracy said valiantly.

"Because no person this successful and beautiful could have possibly fallen in love with a quadriplegic?" 

"No! I just meant…"

"You do protest too much. I love him. I fucking love him, and you know what? He loves me too." Aziraphale was passionate, almost blind with it. He'd doubt many things, but Crowley, his Crowley, his wonderful, beautiful Anthony wasn't one of them.

"Has he told you that?"

"No, he hasn't. But I've been living with him for weeks now. I've shared his bed, his bath, his food. He's mine, and I'm his. Why can't I have that?"

"I only want to protect you."

"I appreciate that. Whatever happens… I… I trust him. Let me trust him, please. If I'm disappointed, then it's on me, and it won't be that hurtful because I have you, my dear."

Tracy sniffled and kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. 

"Fuck his skinny arse silly."

"That's precisely what I intend to do," Aziraphale replied, blushing. 

***

They went home together. Crowley was driving. 

"You're incredibly silent, angel. Is everything alright?" Crowley asked, looking at Aziraphale through the rearview mirror.

"It is, darling. I'm just… a little nervous."

"Angel, we don't have to do anything. You're under no obligation."

"I know… but I want you, and… Shall we talk at home?" 

Crowley spent the rest of the drive joking and cursing, to Aziraphale's utter delight. Actually, whatever he did, Aziraphale found it delightful - his company, his smitten look, his care, his concern, his endless questions, his smile, all of him… Aziraphale couldn't breathe with how much he wanted that  _ skinny arse _ and all attached to it.

"Angel, are you quite alright? You're breathing… strangely?" Crowley asked, such tender concern on his tender face. 

"You know… how I breathe?"

"Of course I do, you idiot! We sleep together. When I kiss you or touch you, I always follow the way you breathe… you know, for… amorous research." Crowley parked the car and waited for Aziraphale to operate the lift and join him. 

"Angel… you worry me so much…" Crowley kissed Aziraphale when they entered the flat. 

"S… sit on me," Aziraphale asked.

"You sure? You're not breathing well…" Crowley still settled in Aziraphale's lap. "My beautiful angel, my incredible bastard… what can I do for you? What's wrong?"

"You know how I breathe."

"Yes. We talked about it. Angel?"

"You put me on the toilet several times. You cleaned me, you bathed me, you kissed me, you made love to me…"

"Ok, that's an interesting list, I don't…"

"I love you, Crowley. I want it to be in the open, my darling. I gave Tracy an evening off, I want it only to be about us. But I… I need you to know that I love you."

Crowley looked at Aziraphale with the fondest exasperation.

"And what did you expect, angel? That I'd be horrified? Have you… the way you look at me, angel. Of course you love me. Of course I love you. Have loved you since I saw you. Love you more each day. We  _ live  _ together, angel, and you know how… how fucking wonderful it is? To wake up to you… I don't understand why I would wake up without you." Crowley grinned. His eyes were uncovered and glowing with affection. 

"You… you love me?" 

"Of course I do, you silly… Take me to the shower? Let me… cherish you?" Crowley winked. Aziraphale thought of rolling his eyes but he was crying which made the whole enterprise quite complicated. So he drove to the shower. Crowley undressed Aziraphale, then hopped about the place trying to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley rather… naughtily.

"Wash yourself for me, darling. Wash me next."

Aziraphale watched Crowley step into the shower. "You're beautiful, Anthony. I'd like you to take it slow. Make it slow for me, my love."

Crowley was used to doing things quickly, but he wanted to slow down time to make it last for as long as his angel wanted. He washed his hair, swirled and twirled under the water stream, holding the shower head high above himself. 

"So taut… so thin, my love… Would you like to sit on my lap as you wash your nethers?"

"My what, angel?" Crowley eagerly climbed into Aziraphale's lap all the same. 

"Your nethers. Your genitalia. Your cock and your hole. Better?"

Crowley kissed him, moaning hungrily into Aziraphale's mouth. 

"You don't seem to be disappointed," Crowley rubbed his arse against Aziraphale's erection. 

"I'm quite the opposite, my dear."

"May I suck you off here, in the shower?"

"I'd love that, my heart…"

"You ok in the sling? Comfortable? Are you comfortable?"

"I'm fine, darling. You're tempting me with the sweetest things, and I can't wait for your mouth… for your hands on me."

Crowley finished washing the soap off himself, fixed the shower above Aziraphale, adjusting the stream to turn into slow and soft flow. Then he knelt in front of Aziraphale…

"Wait, dearest. Wash me first. I want you to wash me. Want you to take care of me… Spoil me, sweetheart."

Crowley nodded and washed Aziraphale's cock, softly and tenderly, brushing his fingertips against Aziraphale's skin. 

"Should I wash all of you, angel?"

"I'd love that. I'll never look at my sponge the same way again, though."

Both men giggled.

"You're doing so well, dearest… Feels so right to have you here now…"

"Feels so fucking right to be here with you, angel." Crowley answered, rubbing the soap into Aziraphale's chest and back, teasing his neck and nipples, worshipping Aziraphale's belly and looking Aziraphale in the eye as he washed his arse. 

"Darling, you're lovely, but I'm very excited…"

Crowley's mouth was on Aziraphale's cock the very next moment. It took some time for Crowley to find the spot where Aziraphale could feel most acutely the way Crowley's tongue and lips moved and teased.

"Anthony… oh, my Anthony. I won't last…"

"Do you want to?" Crowley stopped for a moment.

"No,  _ fuck _ , I don't want to last."

"We have the whole night, angel. The whole life, if you want."

"You're not proposing in the shower, with your mouth near my cock."

"Point taken, you deserve better."

Crowley returned to sucking Aziraphale's cock. Aziraphale groaned, head thrown back, his lips wobbling.

"Put… put my left hand on your hair," Aziraphale asked. Once Crowley did so, Aziraphale grabbed a handful of his lover's hair. "Is this alright, love?"

Crowley just nodded. 

"Oh darling… oh, your hair is so soft… How come I never… Darling…"

Aziraphale couldn't speak anymore, tender pressure on the small of his back was becoming unbearable.

"Come for me, angel. Please…" Crowley stopped again, but it barely registered for Aziraphale, although he heard Crowley's words and came, hard and shuddering, into Crowley's mouth.

"Angel… you're so good… you did so well…" Crowley kissed him, letting Aziraphale taste himself from Crowley's lips. 

"Let's… let's take it to bed, darling. I'm a bit cold."

Crowley nodded. 

Once Aziraphale was settled on a pile of pillows, Crowley lay over him and sucked on Aziraphale's earlobe.

"Oh… dearest… a bit… a bit lower. Please… You know me. You studied me." 

Crowley nodded into the kiss and latched on Aziraphale's neck. Aziraphale moaned loudly and desperately. 

"You're alright, angel?"

"Move than so. Don't stop, please, don't stop!"

"Wouldn't dream of it…"

"And… and… what about you? Dearest…"

"Angel, I'm so… this is wonderful. You taste like a strawberry cloud… better. Taste of you… I'm not eating anything else ever again."

"My sweet love, you're skinny enough as it is… Aaaahhhh, I want you there on my neck forever."

"The very definition of marriage, angel."

"Oh shut it, love, kiss me there more."

"Only there?" 

"For now…" Aziraphale was getting hard again.

"Can I… can I ride you, angel? I'll kiss your neck while I'm riding you, I promise."

"I'm yours… I'm yours to do what you will."

"I'm yours to do what you will," Crowley repeated, dazed. He made a quick work of opening himself and slowly lowered himself on Aziraphale's cock. He whimpered and leaned forward for a tender kiss. 

"I am madly in love with you, Mr Fell."

"I'm madly in love with you too, Mr Crowley."

"How does it feel for you, angel?"

"Lovely… tight and warm." 

"Getting back to your neck?"

"Please…"

On the way to Aziraphale's neck, the left nipple was discovered as another sensitive spot, and Crowley turned quantum, he was everywhere at once, riding Aziraphale and laving at his neck and sucking at his nipple. 

"P-put my hand on your cock, darling."

"Ok, then I'll die."

"I'll die with you, love."

Crowley nuzzled Aziraphale's neck, unable to continue kissing him there, now that he had his cock in Aziraphale's hand. "Ssssorry, angel. Sorry… I'm…" He slithered his hands under Aziraphale's shoulders, grounding himself.

"Oh sweetheart…" Aziraphale kissed his temple, traced the snake tattoo with his tongue. "I love you. We're so good together… you're so good for me. Will you… will you come like that? Would you like to move so that I can suck you off?"

"No…" Crowley wailed. "Want you inside. Everywhere. Love you."

Crowley sat up suddenly, all of him trembling in the warm air. He came over Aziraphale's chest and collapsed over his lover.

"Mmade a messsssss of usssss…"

"Why don't you clean it, my love, and let me taste?"

"My wonderful, clever angel…"

"I'll lick you clean too. I love you, my Anthony."

Crowley did as he was told, careful and gentle. He collapsed over Aziraphale afterwards.

"You were amazing, darling…"

Crowley made a vague noise of whatever it was he wanted to convey, and snuggled under Aziraphale's chin, lifting Aziraphale's left hand to rest on his back. 

"So sweaty, darling… I like it. Can you… would you like to sit on my face?"

"Whatever for, angel? Your breath…"

"Oh fuck my breath. Want to eat your arse!"

"Angel, when you're like that… I'm losing it. Give me a moment… I'll do everything."

"Hmm… that's my perfect Anthony."

"I… if I sit on your face… how would I know… if you're alright?"

"Oh, I intend to moan."

Crowley raised his head and gazed at Aziraphale, both quite dazed. "I love you so much, angel."

"Your arse, my love. Just to… pledge your loyalty, so to speak."

"You're asking for my arse in marriage?"

"I am, dearest Anthony."

"My arse is yours, angel."

"Then move it over my face!"

"I absolutely adore you…" Crowley groaned, moving his arse over Aziraphale's face. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. Smut. Smut.

Michael and Uriel wanted a big, loud wedding, and they deserved it. Throughout the months following Gabriel's sudden  _ disappearance  _ both women made a home, an actual home out of the Fell manor. Michael wanted to renovate Aziraphale's rooms, so Aziraphale and Crowley's mother, Ela, had the time of their lives making suggestions and designing the place just perfectly, despite the fact that Aziraphale never intended to go back. Aziraphale's home was Crowley now, and Crowley…

He resigned because he could afford it and because he wanted to be a loyal house partner, cooking and cleaning and doing shopping and delighting in Aziraphale's company and success. In the end Crowley's firm merged with the Fell empire, to everyone's satisfaction. 

Most days Aziraphale was too tired in the evening to make love  _ properly,  _ as he would put it, but to Crowley a quickie in the bathroom was just as precious, not to mention daily baths in the morning. 

Bea was disappointed at first that their awesome employer (they would never call him awesome to their face, but they found him awesome all the same) found absolute happiness in cooking and cleaning, until of course Ela demanded Bea's attention by driving their chair over Bea's feet and told Bea:

"Boy is happy. Boy is a scientist and a gardener. Aziraphale is his garden. Of Eden. Don't spoil his fun!"

Bea wouldn't dare disobey Ela, so they made sure Crowley had everything he might need. Like Tracy, like Emma, Crowley's second mom, like Crowley himself, Bea was an ultimate caregiver, not to mention they made sure everything proceeded the way Crowley wanted it in regards to his firm. They knew they could trust Aziraphale, but Aziraphale knew better than devoid Bea of their charge. Moreover, Bea proved very helpful with everything in regards to the merger and just in case Aziraphale wanted someone scary by his side, and Bea and Ana together made for a scarier presence than Crowley's three fearsome blokes could have provided. 

Aziraphale was happy, in short. He worried a bit about Michael's wedding but after all it was Michael's, and she deserved every good thing. As far as Aziraphale was concerned Crowley and him had been married for about a millennia, because there could be no other explanation for their easy intimacy, for the way Crowley could tell from the expression on Aziraphale's face waking up whether it would be Crowley or Tracy to take Aziraphale to the toilet, whether there would be passionate worship of Aziraphale's thighs in the bath or just lazy caresses before Aziraphale was on his way to work,  _ to rule the world,  _ Crowley would say proudly. 

Once alone, Crowley would work on his scientific projects - pure science, it was. He would work on replacing his sleek modern furniture with nice antiquarian sofas and armchairs. He ordered a few custom made hoyer lifts to match the whole aesthetic. He would do shopping, would prepare lunch, would take it to Aziraphale and kiss his beloved angel all through the lunch break.

Back at home Crowley would turn his scientific pursuits into glorious practice - there were peculiar robots and gadgets to make Aziraphale entirely independent in  _ their  _ home.

Crowley even found something to apologise for. 

"Sorry, angel, it all depends on electricity… But I built us a generator! Bea says it's legal… So it's probably not, but who cares? I don't!"

Aziraphale pouted, so Crowley had to kiss him silly. 

The rest of the evening was spent snogging, cooking, eating, snogging again, and again, and again.

"Darling, oh my amorous darling… I'm so sorry… I have to start early tomorrow, and…"

But Crowley's lips, his  _ Anthony's  _ lips were on his neck, praising his taste and moaning into each touch, and Aziraphale couldn't help it. 

"Love… love… my sweetest love, please…"

Aziraphale thought of the last few months, of the frantic wedding planning, of so much work Gabriel hadn't been doing and Aziraphale had to be doing… And then there was Crowley, red-haired, ridiculous, building robots, cooking wonderful meals, washing Aziraphale or waiting in their bed for Aziraphale to be washed. 

Usually Aziraphale would lie on his stomach for the night, and any other… combination would be the result of Aziraphale demanding that Crowley just fucked himself on Aziraphale's cock, because nothing compared… Aziraphale kept thinking about being the one to take Crowley's cock, about feeling his love, his lover deep inside him, wailing in pleasure.

Having received the appropriate permission, Crowley covered his angel in oils and creams and every good thing.

"I love covering you with my body," Crowley confessed when he was done and lay next to Aziraphale. "Like feeling you under me… All that softness… Pampered and cared for… My king, my angel…" Crowley kissed the back of Aziraphale's neck, his shoulder blades, down his spine, to rest his head on Aziraphale's buttocks. "Hmmm… That's where I belong… your plush arse… so soft. So pampered… Fuck it all, angel, you deserve to be pampered, to be taken care of… I love you so much."

Crowley lay upon Aziraphale's back, nuzzling at his ear. 

"Been weeks since we made love…"

"Angel, we have conflicting views on the subject. You sucked me off in the bathroom today… it was… magnificent." 

"It wasn't lovemaking, dearest. It was my busy arse trying to… Doesn't matter."

Crowley dropped next to Aziraphale, propped up on an elbow, smitten and grateful for every ounce of attention Aziraphale could have given him. He was saying something, laughing, his throat just there for a kiss and a bite, so happy, despite all the evenings Aziraphale just wanted to sleep… 

"I love you, darling. Fuck me, please. Make me yours."

Crowley stopped talking and stared at Aziraphale.

"Angel… Having you here… it's more than enough, you don't have to…"

"But I want to, dearest. Want your cock in me, give it to me."

"If you wish… As you wish…" Crowley whispered reverently. Aziraphale felt Crowley's head on his buttocks once again - and then there were fingers, those thin, clever fingers gently breeching him.

"Oh… oh… dearest. Don't stop, don't you ever stop… I love you so much, I want you so much… Fuck me, Anthony, please, fuck me…"

"Just a bit more, angel… So it doesn't hurt. Don't want you to be in pain…" Crowley's hot whisper caressed Aziraphale's sweaty skin. "Only love… Want you to feel love and love alone…"

Aziraphale turned his head to bury his hungry, greedy moans in  _ their  _ sheets. 

"Oh no, love, oh no! Moan all you want, moan all you like. Youthful, young, mischievous, naughty… Be naughty with me, angel…"

Crowley had always been careful and mindful, but just being allowed to stick his fingers into Aziraphale's anus he got unhinged.

"I want you, angel, I want you any way you choose fit… Let me… let me inside." Crowley puffed and huffed down Aziraphale's neck, and then he was inside, so much inside, that Aziraphale whined and groaned once he realised how far gone Crowley was. 

"You take me so well, angel, you are so hot and so tight… I'd come right now, down your hole, just because how right and tight you are… Fuck it, angel, fuck it all, you're so good…" Crowley moved and thrusted tenderly, and the undulations of Crowley's hips pushed Aziraphale's cock into their sheets, rubbing so deliciously against every inch of sensitive skin.

"Harder!" Aziraphale demanded. It was all damned, it was all useless and meaningless, unless Crowley was thrusting hard and true inside him.

"Whatever you wish, my angel… Any way you want it…" Crowley kissed Aziraphale's shoulders, neck, anything his wicked tongue could reach, while those quantum hips kept thrusting, kept pushing inside, kept insisting on being in control, and how sweet it was, to give up all the pretense and let Crowley own him like he truly did.

"Gonna make a mess of you, angel… is it good, your cock against our sheets… our pleasure… our pleasure… I fucking love you, angel, I love all of you, come for me…"

Aziraphale came, struggling for breath, and Crowley's hand was there to hold his head up, to let him breathe, and Crowley's weight was away, just next to Aziraphale, then tongue-deep in Aziraphale's arse, eating him out, taking away every ounce of Crowley… 

"Darling… Let me taste… us together. I wish I could…" But Aziraphale was silenced with a demanding, hungry, insatiable kiss from Crowley. Their tongues danced together, they tasted each other and delighted in the way they mixed. 

Using the lift, Crowley moved Aziraphale up to clean his cock, to suck it tenderly, carefully. Then Aziraphale found himself on his stomach, his head on Crowley's shoulder. 

"It was fucking incredible, angel. Fucking you… oh fuck, fuck, fuck… I want my cock up your arse always. I want to live there. I love you so very much, you couldn't be any more perfect than you are… I love you. Sleep, my love, my Aziraphale, I'll guard you, I'll take care of you, I'll build a world around you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

Aziraphale fell asleep thinking of Crowley inside him, thinking of that naughty tongue eating him out, moaning, groaning, grabbing at Aziraphale's arse hungrily.

He woke up early and gingerly called his love.

"Angel? What's wrong?" Crowley asked. His shoulder was wet with Aziraphale's drool. 

"I want to eat you, and you alone. Give me your arse, your cock, all of you…"

And as the sun rose, orange and pink, Crowley was riding Aziraphale, cursing and blessing.

"That's it, darling… yes… Take your pleasure, take me, be mine…"

And as the morning was roaring about London, Crowley begged into Aziraphale's neck:

"Marry me, angel. I love you. I want you. I want to know you better and love you better. Please, Aziraphale, please, marry me…"

***

They didn't want to steal Michael's thunder, so they got married quietly, with only Bea and Tracy there. They decided to let Michael and Uriel know about it after the wedding, so they were dancing together, trying to stay far from the newlyweds, Crowley in Aziraphale's lap, as Aziraphale swayed and turned and twirled them together.

"How are you today, my love?"

"I'm fucking fantastic, angel. You?"

"I'm so much in love, Crowley. I love you so much, my beautiful Anthony…  _ Anthony,  _ **_Anthony_ ** ."

"I love you too, angel. Marry me again, will you? Marry me every day when I fuck your thighs and suck your cock and make you lunch… Marry me…"

"I will, my dear boy. I will, always."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for being here. Kudos and comments are more important than they appear.


End file.
